


Pip

by GillianInOz



Category: Lewis - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2017-09-30
Packaged: 2019-01-07 09:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12230049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GillianInOz/pseuds/GillianInOz
Summary: Robbie meets James's room mate.





	Pip

The lights were on at James’s place, and Lewis parked the car and grabbed the box of files from the front seat. He knocked on the front door, glancing at the tub of lilacs growing by the steps. They must be hardy plants, he thought. The summer had been a long, hot one.

The door opened and Lewis stared in surprise. 

“Inspector Lewis,” the young man said. “I remember you from when Nell was murdered. You caught the man who did it, so he wouldn’t murder anyone else.”

“Philip,” Lewis recalled. “Philip Horton.” Stupidly Lewis checked the number on the door, even though he’d been to James’s flat before. 

“Yes,” Philip nodded. “Please come in. I’m supposed to ask visitors if they’d like a drink.”

Lewis followed him into the narrow hall, still a bit nonplussed. 

“Uh, no thanks,” he said as Philip just stood there, typically not meeting his eyes. 

Philip nodded and led the way into the lounge room. Music was playing softly on the stereo, and all the lamps were lit.

“Is James here?” Lewis asked, since Philip wasn’t known for volunteering information.

“James is getting pizza,” Philip supplied. “It’s Friday, we always have pizza on Friday. I get pepperoni and James gets jalapeño peppers.”

“I know,” Lewis said, still absorbing the ‘we always have pizza on Friday’ remark. “He likes his spicy food, does James.”

“He’s bringing beer too,” Philip said. “He says one should always drink cold beer with pizza. So we do,” he finished.

Lewis remembered how disconcerting it could be, talking to someone who never met your eyes. 

“Would you like to see my room?” Philip asked, and Lewis blinked, again taken completely by surprise. 

“You live here?”

Philip nodded.

Lewis put the box of files on the coffee table, only just realising his arms were starting to ache.

“With James?” he clarified.

Phillip nodded. “I moved in three months, one week and four days ago. It was a Tuesday.”

The front door opened and Philip tilted his head. “James is home.”

James came in, two pizza boxes balanced on one arm, a six pack of sweating beer in his other hand. “Evening, sir,” he said, a smile playing about his lips. “I saw your car out front. Pip,” he said, and Lewis realised he was talking to Philip. “Take these will you?”

“Yes,” Philip said, taking the pizza. “I laid the table,” he said, carrying the pizza into the small kitchen area. “With serviettes but no knives and forks. James says only pretentious people eat pizza with knives and forks,” Philip said.

“Will you stay for dinner, sir?” James said, pulling a beer off the six pack and handing it to him. Lewis automatically took it.

“No, you’re all right,” Lewis said, feeling awkward.

“Please, sir,” James said, meeting his eyes. “Unless you’ve already eaten, there’s plenty. And Pip would like it, I’m sure.”

“Are you?” Lewis murmured dubiously, and James gave one of his rare smiles. Lewis twisted the cap off the beer and took a welcome mouthful of the cold brew.

Dinner was informal, the boxes placed on the small table and everyone helping themselves. Lewis decided to stick with pepperoni, he’d never developed the taste for spicy food.

“Very wise,” James noted.

“Well, since you don’t have ham and pineapple,” Lewis joked.

“James says ham and pineapple pizza is an abomination before the Lord,” Philip said, then took a bite of his slice.

“Inspector Lewis knows my opinion of the evil that is ham and pineapple pizza,” James told him, handing him a serviette. “He’s just teasing.”

Philip nodded and finished his slice.

“So,” Lewis said. “Still doing your art?” He winced at his own inanity and James smirked at him.

“Yes,” Philip said. “Although I don’t paint the river every day any more. That was for school.”

“Philip is studying for his Masters in Fine Art at Ruskin,” James supplied. “And he has some pieces in an art show in October. Perhaps Inspector Lewis would like to come, Pip?” he asked Philip. 

“Would you like to come, Inspector Lewis?” Philip said, taking another slice. 

“I would, thank you,” Lewis said.

888

After dinner Philip disappeared, presumably to his room, and James stacked the plates on the sink and sat back down on the couch. Lewis sat in an arm chair and drank his last beer of the night.

“So,” he said. “Philip tells me he’s been staying here for three months?”

“Living here,” James amended. “And I bet he told you in a great more detail exactly how long he’s been here.”

“I didn’t even know you’d kept in touch with him,” Lewis probed, wondering if James would clam up tight the way he usually did when his personal life was brought up. But James just shrugged bonelessly, seeming very much at his ease.

“I used to go down to the river sometimes,” he said. “And chat. Well, I say chat,” he smiled, twisting his beer bottle in his hand. “I’d chat and he’d occasionally respond. But he liked the company, and it’s a pretty relaxing spot.”

“So how did you get from a smoke by the river to living together?”

“Pip mentioned he was going to have to move, once his housemates graduated. His remaining housemates anyway. Dr Sully, you remember? His art tutor?”

“Yes, a very nice lady,” Lewis recalled. 

“She is. She was going to help him find a place, and I had a room spare, so…” James shrugged again, draining his bottle. “Another?” he offered, helping himself to one.

“Can’t, I’m driving,” Lewis said, indicating his own half full beer. “So he’s just a room mate?”

James smiled. “We’re not lovers, sir, if that’s what you’re asking.” He crinkled his brow thoughtfully. “I’m not sure Pip is capable of giving informed consent, to be honest. Or what side of the spectrum his sexuality lies.” 

Since Lewis still wasn’t entirely sure what side of the spectrum Hathaway’s sexuality lay, he let that go. “I’m just a bit surprised,” he confessed. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the type to go in for a room mate, let alone…” he trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence without sounding rude.

“I’m not, usually,” James admitted. “But Pip is amazingly easy to live with. He’s neat and tidy, quiet. He’s company too, when things get a bit lonely.”

“Sounds like you’re describing a pet cat,” Lewis snorted, then flushed as James gave him a mock admonishing look.

“That’s a bit unkind, sir,” he murmured. 

“Sorry,” Lewis said, rubbing at his nose. “That was unkind. He’s a nice lad, I always thought so.”

“He is,” James agreed. “He needed someone to watch out for him,” he continued thoughtfully. “And I suppose I needed someone to watch out for.”

The perfect relationship for James? Lewis wondered. No strings, no ties, no emotional commitment. No sex either, apparently, but then James never seemed to be driven by his carnal appetites, to say the least. 

“So,” he said. “Pip?”

“My father’s name is Philip,” James said, and there it was, that closed face Lewis knew of old. “I asked Philip if he’d had any nicknames before and he said that people in the foster home called him Pip sometimes.”

He leaned forward and poked at the box of files on the coffee table. “Want to get a start?”

Lewis gave up the interrogation and started pulling out case files.

888

When Lewis was gone James turned the music up a bit and sprawled back on the lounge, sipping his beer. Philip drifted in and sat next to him on the couch, sketching, his pencil strokes confident and assured.

“You didn’t have to stay in your room while Inspector Lewis was here,” James said.

Philip nodded, focused on his drawing.

“This is your home too, and if it was something private I would have said.”

Philip nodded again and James let it go. After a few minutes Philip leaned against him, and James raised his arm and let the younger man curve into him, pencil still busy.

“Can I see?” James asked and Philip nodded and showed him the page, covered with small portraits of Lewis. One of his surprised face, one of his curious expression, one where he was frowning.

“They’re very good,” James admired.

Philip nodded. “He has an interesting face,” he said, taking the pad back and resuming his work. 

“Does he?”

“Lots of lines,” Philip said, making James chuckle. “And kind eyes.”

James’s chuckle faded to a fond smile. “He does,” he agreed. “He’s a very kind man.”

Philip nodded. “I remember.” 

James patted his shoulder comfortingly and Philip curved a bit closer, laying his head on James’s shoulder. Of course Philip remembered, he remembered everything. And he might not show it, but he felt and he grieved, and he missed his friend. Things didn’t fade for Philip the way they did other people, James thought sadly. Philip would mourn Nell all his life.

“Well, I’m for bed,” James said some while later, and Philip stirred from his light doze and stood up. 

“Saturday tomorrow,” Philip said, yawning. “A lie in, no noise before eight am. Bacon and eggs for breakfast, with orange juice.”

“That’s the plan,” James said, patting him fondly on the shoulder. “Night. Don’t stay up all night drawing,” he said as Philip headed for the bathroom.

“I’m a growing boy and I need my rest,” Philip said, a small smile playing about his lips. 

James shut off the lights, checked the door and turned off the stereo. He stood for a few moments in the dark, listening to the comforting sounds of someone else padding around the flat. Then he drifted off to his own bed, still smiling.

THE END


End file.
